ABEL'S REVENGE

by Ross Greenwood

  We wander through a confusing array of corridors and find ourselves at a secluded bar. There’s a handsome guy behind it, and one other patron — an elderly gentleman snoozing in a high-backed armchair. Mike slurs a bit as we sit although I’m not convinced. I’ve noticed him top my drink up more often than his. Let him think he’s in control. The decision has been made, and it doesn’t matter.

  ‘What’ll you have?’

  ‘Not what that guy had.’

  On cue, the old man starts to snore like an elephant seal.

  ‘Wine?’

  ‘Oh, no. No more of that. Let’s have an Irish coffee. Perk us up a little.’

  The last sentence gives Mike the green light he’s been waiting for. I see him relax. I expect him to go to the bar. Instead, he nods at the barman who comes straight over with a smile.

  ‘Two coffees, with Jameson’s, please.’

  He seals the deal next time we laugh by putting his hand on my leg. I don’t remove it. The coffees arrive with a hushed voice.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Armitage.’

  I find them knowing his name unsettling. In fact, it’s like I’m underground somehow. The old man has gone. I have a vision of Mike pressing a button and a section of the wall opening and the man and his chair revolving into the space before it closes.

  Mike picks up on my discomfort.

  ‘I’m associates with the owner. I play golf with him and a few other similar-minded professionals. One of those is the man who owns the stadium I mentioned earlier where our tickets will be free. We look out for each other and assist as best we can. I’m brilliant at what I do, and they know. I help them, and in return, they me. I stay here for free whenever I fancy. It’s a privileged club.’

  I find extreme wealth an aphrodisiac. Yet, these powerful men have always hurt me. I gave them everything and was left with pieces. Dan only had his confidence. Where he lived his life, it was all he needed. I brought him to a place where money rules, and without it you’re no one. I didn’t ask him, and I didn’t explain. He came knowing nothing. I’d forgotten that.

  The Irish coffee slides down, and it’s a good one. A mellow pick-me-up was what I needed. Now, I’m in control.

  ‘Shall we check that room out?’

  He can’t help but grin. He is the unappreciated author who finally sealed a book contract. Taking my hand, he helps me out of my seat. He’s certainly been here before as there’s no mention of any bill. We glide along the corridors and then take a lift seemingly to heaven. I might have known it would be the penthouse. The view is incredible.

  ‘Not bad.’

  ‘This room is often free as few can afford it.’

  ‘It was presumptuous of you to get the key beforehand.’

  ‘I wasn’t presuming, only hopeful.’

  I wander over to the tall windows and watch sheet lightning flash above the skyscrapers. The city looks moody and threatening, but exciting and powerful. I sense him next to me and he passes me water in a heavy glass. It’s like he knows my mind. I look over his shoulder and hope I can’t see a grand piano. If he sat and played on one of those, the cheese factor would be off the scale.

  ‘I’ve liked you for a long time, Olivia. You deserve happiness.’

  He chinks my drink with his and then, while holding my hand, escorts me to a pair of mirrored doors. He pushes them open to reveal a huge bed with shiny black sheets. They wouldn’t last five minutes in my house. Thoughts of my family crowd in on my happy state. I still have a house, but I don’t have a home.

  My glass feels heavy, and I clunk it onto the bedside cabinet. I drop my handbag beside it, noting the whisky is winning the fight. There’s a pair of surgical gloves atop a dresser on the other side of the bed which is weird. I suppose he is a dentist. He follows my gaze.

  ‘I find these things everywhere. I must go through twenty pairs a day.’

  He joins me, and kisses my lips. Gently at first. The room spins and I have to re-open my eyes. It’s strange to be touched by someone who worships you. His hand traces my face, my neck, and guides the zip of my dress down my back. It feels wonderful. I can finally relax my stomach before it escapes through the stitching.

  His breathing quickens as he releases my breasts and fondles them in a manner they’re unused to. At this point, Dan would have squeezed them and shouted ‘yeah baby’. I reach down with enthusiasm, but Mike stops my hand, and pushes me onto the bed.

  ‘You first.’

  I sprawl in what I hope is a sexy way and watch him undress. He doesn’t spend every moment of his time at work. His shaven chest is far removed from Dan’s hairy belly.

  Moving to my side, he eases my pants off in a swift practised manoeuvre. He kisses shoulder to hip and then further below. He teases me. My tiredness departs as my hips raise towards him. A few moments later, my concerns have vanished. He turns me onto my front and pulls me into the doggy style position. I can’t help a smile. Men, eh? So predictable.

  Only, I’m wrong. He continues with his lips, tongue, and breath. I’m ecstatic, vulnerable and dirty. A lady, a lover, and a whore.

  So much for being in control. Dentistry is not the only thing he’s brilliant at.

  Chapter 54

  Dan

  I catch the night bus home as the last train has gone. It’s a mistake. The only people who get on these are the young and fun, and the sad and lonely. You can imagine where I fit in. I avoid the energy and sit amongst the other jaded folk in their forties.

  The buses are too slow during the day because of the traffic, but at this time of the night I arrive at my stop in fifteen minutes. It’s a long quarter of an hour though, full of wondering, imagining and blaming.

  The lights are out at Mike’s house. Does that mean they’re already in bed? At separate houses or together? I can’t imagine they would come back here. Olivia isn’t that punishing. Maybe I’m fooling myself and Olivia’s lack of enthusiasm for our relationship is due to long suppressed feelings for Mike. That’s why she was so tired. Perhaps when he came over to borrow stuff, he was coming for a different type of sugar.

  I let myself in the front door and the dog’s waiting for me. Bailey’s such a good boy. He’s even done a shit on the kitchen tiles instead of the hall carpet so it’s easier for me to clean. How considerate. I forgot to take him out, so I’m at fault. I open the fridge and remember the four pack I bought in case Charlotte wanted to come back here and needed more booze. Buying them, and the thought processes surrounding that, is from a different life, in a faraway galaxy.

  In the lounge, I find Olivia is right, and it is nice to return to a clean house when you’ve been out. However, I hope she never discovers my reasons for tidying. I slump in the chair, not bothering to turn the light on, and open the can with a tsk. I should go to bed, but I often do this. Why not retire as opposed to guaranteeing a painful head in the morning? I hear Bailey bark. I wonder what he wants as it can’t be a poo.

  There’s somebody at the door. A brief surge of optimism is quelled as the opaque glass doesn’t hide the fact the person has grey hair. I can only think of Olivia’s mother, and I’m correct.

  ‘How was the nightclub, Vivienne?’

  ‘Shut up, you cheeky boy. Let me in out of this rain.’

  ‘Tea, something stronger?’

  ‘It’s not a social call. We were passing, and I saw your lights on. We attended the theatre for a fabulous show. Do you go?’

  ‘Not for a few weeks now.’

  ‘Right. I thought I’d pop in to see if you’d misheard me last time we spoke?’

  There is a vague recollection of speaking to her recently. I don’t remember the conversation as such. Something about Harold not liking me. That wasn’t a surprise as he called me a penis once at the dinner table.

  ‘I said to not fuck it up. Does that ring any bells?’

  She oughtn’t to use the f-bomb as from her mouth it sounds strange and unsettling. Ah, I see her purpose, and I also recall those words now.

&
nbsp; ‘That sounds familiar.’

  ‘Well, you appear to be doing exactly that.’

  ‘You’re right. I have, haven’t I?’

  A tear trickles from my eye and my shoulders heave. I don’t think I’ve ever so much as touched her before tonight, yet she still envelops me in her arms. It’s difficult, but I manage to stop howling and she guides me towards the kitchen.

  ‘Come on. Let’s get you a cup of tea.’

  The light pings on and she comes to a halt. I try to peer beyond to see what’s stopped her and then remember Bailey’s present on the floor. Before I can warn her, she nudges it with an expensive shoe. The crust comes away, releasing brown liquid, a piece of carrot, and a terrible aroma. She looks at me in horror.

  ‘Oh dear. I thought it was fake.’

  ‘Freshly laid, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’d take him to the vet if I were you.’

  When she’s made the tea, I decide on action. I tip the rest of my can of lager into the sink and fetch the others from the fridge. She pours one away with me.

  ‘My husband used to drink. He stopped, give-or-take, and we’ve had a great life. Relationships are a journey. A rollercoaster really. There are big dips but the highs come soon enough. Only the crazy ones jump off and leave their kids behind.’

  ‘I think I’m too late. I’ve lost her.’

  ‘Rubbish. You know nothing about women. Especially one who has your children. It’s gestures she wants. Effort and commitment. Show her you’re trying and you want to make things work. Even if she leaves, she’ll remember. She can’t replace you like-for-like. Deep down she knows that.’

  ‘What do I do? Flowers? Sing to her from the driveway?’

  She fires me an intolerant look.

  ‘Harold would shoot you if you started singing near the house. Where’s the rest of the drink? We’ll get rid of everything.’

  ‘That’s it. I drank the rest. Alcohol is only a temporary guest here.’

  ‘Pull your finger out, young man. I should go, or he’ll think I’ve forgotten him.’

  At the door, she stops for one last question.

  ‘Do you know where you’ll go? I asked my husband if you could stay at ours in the short term. He said over his dead body. Or better still, he’d let you move in and kill you while you slept. He’s such a joker.’

  ‘That’s a shame as my possibilities are limited. Thanks for stopping. I will give it my best efforts and we’ll see what happens. Any inside tips on what makes your daughter work?’

  ‘Stop drinking so much. Although in your case, it might be wise to not drink anything at all. Invest your time. That’s it. It’s the most valuable thing we own. Then talk to her about your hopes. She says she doesn’t know what you’re thinking. Let her be aware of your feelings.’

  ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  ‘It is. You’ll have to marry her, too. No half measures. Not many blokes want to get hitched, so don’t think you’re unique. Pretend if you can’t show enthusiasm. Happy wife, happy life.’

  Bailey looks up and whines when she leaves. His sadness reflects mine. How do I begin to correct things? I need to convince Olivia she also has to try. It’s not totally my fault, although I accept I am mostly to blame.

  I take a quick picture of Bailey and trudge up the stairs. It seems I will use any technique or method, however low, to further my cause. I’m tired now and know I’ll have more enthusiasm and ideas in the morning. Nevertheless, I attach the photo to a WhatsApp message with the words, ‘I want the family back. And I want you back.’ I press send and my phone beeps to confirm it’s gone.

  Bailey takes that as go-go-go for upstairs, and he shoots past me and leaps on the bed. I climb in clothed and he snuggles up behind me. Is Olivia doing the same?

  Chapter 55

  Olivia

  My mouth is open to utter the words, ‘Please, just do me,’ when my phone informs me that I have a WhatsApp message. Whenever I receive a text at night and I’m not with my children, I always think it concerns them. Even though it feels like I’m unwinding myself off a corkscrew, I still have to see what it says. Mike’s tongue must be a metre long with the tensile strength of a cable from a suspension bridge.

  ‘Hang on a minute.’

  I grab my phone and enter my PIN.

  ‘I want the family back. And I want you back.’

  Great timing from Dan as always. Then the words sink into my addled state.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asks Mike.

  All of a sudden, everything is. My brain is way past subterfuge. Dan’s text and my mother’s advice fight for dominance over my lust.

  ‘Sorry, I need to read this.’

  I stagger out of the room and sit on the toilet, reading it again as though I’d imagined it. I’m not sure what it means, or even if what he’s saying matters. Searching my feelings, I know that’s not true or I wouldn’t have experienced the jolt. Splashing water on my face doesn’t help. Explaining to Mike that I’m going isn’t a nice proposition. But, I need to get my head together. I must speak to Dan.

  Taking a quick look at my smudged lipstick and with a deep breath, I walk out the room and dress.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Something’s come up.’

  It’s a poor choice of words as his impressive boner wilts with disappointment.

  ‘Is it the kids?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  He collects my clothing for me and passes me my handbag, apparently oblivious to his naked state. I find it hard to look at him when I reach the door. I glance at the magnificent panorama. I don’t want this. Whether I stay with Dan is a different question. I shake my head as I realise I’m not ready to move on. That’s the wrong thing to do as it confirms Mike’s fears.

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it? Dan.’

  He spits his name out. His raw anger is shocking.

  ‘It’s family.’

  ‘When will you wake up? He’s a loser. I can make you happy. Give me a chance, Olivia. I’ve waited for years.’

  He lets out a wail. Maybe Dan was right, and he is insane.

  ‘Goodbye, Mike.’

  The twisted grimace is pure rage. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an angrier, redder face, and both my babies had constipation.

  I pull the door shut and hear the smash of a glass on the wall. There’s another anguished cry and this time it’s the door that’s hit. I’ve been here before. I could be twenty, or twenty-six, or thirty-five again. Why am I attracted to mad people? Dangerous, violent men have been a feature in my life.

  The reception staff ignore me. They’re well trained. The doorman is still outside and holds the door for me. He waves for a taxi to come over. I dive in and bellow my parents’ address at the driver.

  ‘See you again, Ma’am,’ says the doorman as he shuts me in.

  ‘I bloody hope not.’

  Chapter 56

  Abel

  My mission to ruin this city draws to an end. Everyone knows my name. Newspapers are the records of the damned as they list the crimes I’ve inspired. Decision time approaches, but that is out of my hands. Fates hang heavy upon her decision, because no one rejects me. Forget the good book, I’m out of control. I wasn’t religious anyway. I relaxed in the peaceful surroundings of the churches we attended, and only zoned in for the vengeance and wrath.

  The lessons are over now, and the city has been cleansed. Now it’s personal. I’ve felt little through these months, despite the excitement for others. The only satisfaction I experienced was for a job well done. That gold tooth was real, almost like I’d treated myself. When I hold it, I relive the moment. I deserve another bonus, so tonight is a treat. I bought a boiler suit, just for the occasion.

  The mechanic’s garage is at the bottom of a dead end, so traffic is light. They close at six, so it’s unlikely anyone would arrive at that time. There’s an easy escape path between two houses nearby, so if I’m quick, no one will even know I was here. Not until their families wonder why the
y haven’t come home.

  The last customer pays her bill in the office. I watch from the shadows. Thieving Terry, the manager, grins when she turns to leave. He conveniently lowers the blinds. She departs with a grim look on her face. I wore that same expression when the cost exceeded my expectations. The mechanic waves her off with a smile. The lady gives him the finger. Another satisfied client. Their final one.

  The mechanic is a man of routine. He sits on the tyre, facing the office, and rolls his smoke. I dread to think of the oil and filth on the papers. Isn't it unhealthy enough already? Our houses are full of weapons, and today’s is a screwdriver. Sharpened, of course. These victims are special. I want them to know it was me before they draw their final breaths.

  I approach through the ramps from behind him in silence. My boots have anti-slip soles on them. The advert said prison officers wear them. The mechanic is a big, fat man. Hair sprouts from his greasy T-shirt. I raise my hand and drive the sharp edge straight into his spine. His back arches. The second screwdriver I deliver underhand and it spears the area where his right lung should be.

  I’m surprised. I expected more drama and more blood. He rolls off the side of the tyre and lies staring at the ceiling with a stunned expression. Crouching next to him, I pinch his ear and lift his face to mine.

  ‘Remember me?’

  He nods, and I shove another screwdriver into his solar plexus and towards his heart. I haven’t got time to dawdle, so cover him with a sheet from my backpack. The strides to the office take seconds. They've ripped me off in here loads of times, so the manager, Thieving Terry, smiles and offers me his hand. I shake it with my gloved one. His grip is strong considering his sprightly pensioner persona.

  We sit opposite sides of his cheap desk and I book in my car for a full service. While he taps away at his computer as though it might bite him, I squirt baby lotion over the floor underneath and around his seat. The last squeeze covers his leather brogues.